


Blue Moon

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Killers for Hire (SkyeWard AU) [13]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Killers for Hire, Las Vegas Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:23:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>remember that time in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/106799">killers for hire</a> when grant and skye woke up super hungover and didn’t remember that <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2154813">they’d gotten drunkenly married</a> the night before?</p>
<p>well, this is that wedding that neither one of them remembers. which is a shame, because it was very sweet! and very, very sloppy.</p>
<p>special thanks to elvis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Moon

“You know,” Skye says, grinning, hanging off Grant’s arm and still half-falling over.  “I’ve always loved Elvis.”

Elvis gives Skye a smile. “Thank you.  Thank you-”

“Don’t,” Grant warns.  “Don’t do the line.” 

Skye sways back, practically tumbling out of Grant’s arm.  He wraps her into a hug, and pulls her back upright.  She laughs, like almost falling over is the funniest thing in the world.

“Shush,” Grant says, gently pressing his finger to her nose.  She looks up at him with wide, glassy eyes.  “Time to get married.”

Skye nods several times in a row, bobbing her head in a fluid, woozy motion.  “Yep,” she says.  Giggles.  “Times to get married.”

Grant almost drops her, again, but this time it’s his fault.  He’d gone to adjust his footing and tripped on air.  Skye wraps her arms around his neck and yells in protest, almost pulling him down with her.

Elvis doesn’t seem phased.  “Aren’t you two sweet?” he says.

Skye’s still falling, pressing her face to Grant’s chest with her hands desperately clasped around his neck.  “Graaant,” she whines.  “Heeeelp.”

“I’m tryyyying,” he says back.  He hooks his hands under her arms and hoists her back up.  Then kisses her on her forehead and wraps his arm back around her waist.  He gets distracted, then, by how beautiful she is in the chapel light.  Her lipstick wore off hours ago and her cheeks are flushed and she’s grinning up at him with adoration in her eyes.

He’s not really sure how he’s still standing, since his stomach feels like it’s a stormy sea and his arm is really, really tired from holding her up.  But boy, does he love her.

“What are we doing again?” he asks, laughing.  He pulls Skye against his chest.  “Skye,” he says.  “What’re we doing?”

“We’re getting married!” she says.  Grabs his arm and tries to spin out, and snaps her heel.  She falls over, he falls over, they tumble to the floor in front of Elvis and three other couples.

She pouts.  “Dumb shoes.”

Grant stares blankly at her, for a moment.  He hasn’t fully registered that he’s sitting on his butt and not standing on his feet.  “It’s okay,” he reassures her.  Pats her head.  “I still love you.”

Skye takes a moment to kick off her shoes.  Grant gets up, though it takes him a couple of tries, and offers her his hand.

They almost fall again, as he helps her up.  But they’re both standing, and she’s steadier now that her heels are off.

“Okay,” she says to Elvis, with all the spark and confidence that Grant loves about her.  “Marry us.”

Elvis grins at them.  Gives a nod.  “Do you have any vows?”

Grant puffs out his chest.  Grabs Skye by the hand.  “I do,” he says, very seriously.  “I have vows.”

Skye hiccups.  “Aw, Grant,” she says.  She’s so little without her heels.  So little that he could just carry her everywhere, forever.  “You didn’t have to.”

“I did, though!” Grant says.  “I’ve had them thought of since, like, forever.”

Her voice gets small.  “Forever?”

He takes her other hand.  Looks down at her, at the pretty expression on her face.  “Forever and ever.”

She grins, suddenly and without warning, and he almost forgets everything again.  Or falls over.  Or pukes.

One of those three.

“Okay,” she says, happy as he’s ever heard her.  She swings their hands, like they’re children in love.  “I wanna hear them.”

He inches closer to her.  “Skye,” he says, and the weight of her name is enough to make him heady.  “Remember that time you stole my desert eagle and then tried to assassinate the prime minister?”

Skye laughs.  “I do!” she says, voice a sing-song.  “I do remember!”

“Well,” Grant continues.  “I didn’t want to kill you, when you did it.  And that’s how I knew I loved you.”

The chapel crowd aaaws at that.

“Oh Grant,” she says, softly.

“And also,” Grant says.  “You’re so beautiful and smart and talented and funny and I’ve loved you since I saw you, probably.”  He squeezes her hands.  “I wasn’t supposed to love you but I did. I do. So much.”

Skye starts to cry out of the blue, letting fat tears roll down her rosy cheeks.  “Oh, Grant,” she says.

The shaking in her voice makes him realize he’s actually sobbing, he’s probably been sobbing because he’s fucking plastered, and he hasn’t even noticed.

He just loves her so much, is all.

“You protected me,” Skye says.  Sniffles.  Hiccups again.  “And you didn’t want anything for it.  Because you love me.”

He continues to cry, letting out soft, drunken sobs.  “I do,” he says, nodding.  “I do love you.”

“I love you too,” Skye says.  “And I wanna be your wife.”

He wraps his hand around the back of her head, digging his fingers into her hair.  “Oh, Skye,” he says.

He’s sure she would leap into his arms if she was sober.

Instead, she pulls him by the lapel and crashes her lips against his.  And crashes really is the best word for it, since their teeth knock together and their noses smush and she has to stand on the tips of her toes to kiss him.

Elvis is polite enough to finish the rest of their union without interrupting them.  They’re making out like teenagers that just raided the liquor cabinet, and Grant doesn’t really care because that’s exactly how Skye makes him feel.

“I’d tell you to kiss the bride,” Elvis says, and the crowd laughs.  “But you two are already getting busy.”

Grant and Skye part, lips slick, eyes puffy.  Elvis gently tucks the rings into Grant’s jacket pocket, and gives them a nod.

“Thank you, Elvis,” Skye says, swooning in Grant’s arms.  “We love you!”

Grant wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.  “We really do,” he says.  He reaches to pick Skye up, bridal-style.  Then almost drops her immediately.

She laughs, head tossed back, hair shining in the yellow light.

And that’s how Grant will remember her for the rest of the night.  For forever, even.  He promises himself as they stumble out of the chapel that he’ll never forget that look.

He forgets everything else, of course.  But not that.


End file.
